Locke in the Lot
by a determined mango
Summary: I can kind of understand that the San Fernando Valley will be nothing like Brooklyn, but I guess there's a first for everything. After all, that's what happens to normal people, right? First friends? First crush? First kiss? Well, I'm not entirely sure about the last two, but that's what normal people have, right? Well then, it looks like I have a lot of fitting in to do.
1. The Box

_Locke in the Lot_

_I do not own the Sandlot_

The Box

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><p>We've only arrived in the San Fernando Valley for one hour, yet we weren't even halfway done with carrying the cardboard boxes out of the moving truck. You would kind of expect a family of three to have less cargo than a full army camp, but that's not the case. I've got to admit, though, I'm surprised that none of us had passed out yet. I would expect Daddy to playfully complain to Momma if it weren't for her method of smacking him in the back of the head. While at the same time, telling him, "Aren't you supposed to be the one that wears the pants of the household? If not, I'll <em>happily<em> take your place and kick you out on the streets."

As of right now, it's been two hours since we've been here, and we're almost done with unloading the boxes. Soon enough, though, the driver of the U-Haul truck got a tad bit too irritated with us and ended up throwing the rest of the boxes out on the pavement. Sure, it seemed a bit rude at first but then I realized why he unleashed his frustration out on the boxes—it was the San Fernando Valley.

It's hot.

It's humid.

And it's a real pain in the ass to sit in a cracked leather seat and bake under the sun through the window.

At this point, I guess he kind of helped us. After all, he threw the boxes to the ground, thus saving us time from hauling them one by one from the back of the truck. In a way, I suppose that we should at least give him some appreciation.

"Marcia! Do you think you can handle the rest of the boxes outside while Momma and I unpack the boxes?" Daddy's voice rang from the house. I gagged a little. That was just his way of saying that him and Momma needed some "alone time" and that he didn't want anything to butcher the mood.

I replied, "Of course, Daddy!"

As I rolled my mud colored eyes, I skipped back outside with my glossy, dark brown waves bouncing with every step I took. With only five more boxes sitting upon the sidewalk, I figured that I could handle it. The only problem was that one box probably weighed two times more of my weight. I could probably handle it. Most likely.

Cracking my knuckles, I grasped the first cardboard box managed to lift it one inch above the ground. At that point, I sort of just waddled all over the place frantically until I got to the door. Eventually, at maybe five minutes, I pushed it inside the house and groaned. There were still more boxes outside, but I deemed myself to be too lazy to even get back up on my feet. As of result, I just sat there next to the colossal box that I hauled in. I kept on silently reciting my prayers just in case I die in the process of handling boxes.

After about a good twenty minutes, I ended up bringing in three of the other boxes much to my relief. Just one more and I can start my adventure and roam around San Fernando Valley. I went back outside, only to figure out that the box was approximately the weight of the other four boxes combined. At this rate, I'm probably going to die at the mere age of fifteen. I can already see the gravestone now:

'_Marcia Maria Lopez Locke_

_January 18, 1949 – June 14, 1964_

_Beloved Daughter and Best Friend_

_Lost War Against Cardboard Box'_

Of all the things to cause my death, I wouldn't like for it to be battling and losing to a cardboard box. My solution? Well, there is no way in hell that I'm going to carry it—after all, I don't want to die by carrying a box with a death label on it. The only other thing to really do is to push it. And that's exactly what I did. Did it plan out like the way I wanted it to? Not exactly.

At least I pushed it one inch of the way. I mean, I'm supposed to have a lot of upper body strength; I play softball for crying out loud! I'm supposed to haul everything and anything with no problem.

Until I met this box.

And I thought my legs were strong enough to help propel my "pushing skills" to the max. Well, I guess when you travel all the way from Brooklyn all the way here to the Valley, it can really take a toll on your strength and endurance. I guess. Maybe. I don't know if it's just me—but would you feel the same way if you were in my position? The world may never know.

It wasn't long until I completely gave up on trying to move the pesky box. Instead of pushing it around to get it inside the house, I had other ideas. You know those moments when you get so tired that you just want to sleep wherever and whenever you want? This was one of those moments, particularly. Because, let's face it, the only good thing this box can do is make for a crappy lounge seat. Well, bed, but you get the point, right?

Anyways, I was just there laying upon the cardboard box and basking under the sunlight. I didn't really care anymore if anyone saw me sleeping upon this box with only my mid-thigh white skirt and grey short-sleeved scoop back ballerina top to cover me up. It wasn't as if I was exposing myself to the world—Momma always told me to wear shorts under skirts and dresses. Then again, it's hot, so I kind of got a reason.

"Hey, are you alright?"

I slowly opened my eyes, only to see a the face of an absolute stranger. Now, I'm not necessarily saying that I'm "attracted" to him—he just seems like that kind of guy you would want your parents to meet. But I've got to admit, this guy had the looks. With a Brooklyn Dodgers ball cap set upon his mousy, messy jet black hair and a pair of light washed Levi's settled upon his hips, this guy didn't look too shabby. After all, he liked the Dodgers, making him seem like a decent guy in my book.

"_Who are you_?" I asked, sitting upright on the box to get a better look at him. Then, he crouched to meet my eyes.

"You must be new here," he said, pointing to the box. I looked down at my black and white saddle shoes, thinking of a clever excuse.

"I asked you a question."

"And I want to know if you're okay."

I saw him give a smirk in my direction and decided to raise an eyebrow.

"Are you or not?"

"And you want to know because…?"

"My mother raised me to be a gentleman."

"Only a true gentleman would help a lady up from a cardboard box and lift it for her," I said, returning the smirk. He raised an eyebrow as well, grasped my right hand with his, and gently pulled me up. Next thing I knew, he started to lift the box from the sidewalk and ended up bringing it inside the house with ease.

Now that I think about it, I've only met this stranger for a few minutes and already had him carrying things for me. I should really feel guilty right now, but I'm just grateful that he showed up and carried the box for me. Soon after, we stood in the middle of the hallway together, and eventually, our eyes met. That was when brown met hazel.

"Anyways, thanks for the help…uh…" I trailed off. The stranger guy soon jolted back into reality and stuck his hand out again.

"Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez—just Benny, actually," he replied as I smiled just when he asked me, "Your's?"

"Marcia."

"Cool."

There was a quick moment of silence.

"Well, thank you for helping me, just Benny. Maybe we'll see each other again soon."

"Yeah."

Then we just stood there. Well, until he looked back at the doorway. "I…uh…think I should be on my way now," Benny said sheepishly as he fixed his Dodgers hat back up on his head.

"Well, I guess we'll see each other later then?" I said.

"Definitely."

It was at that moment that I realized one thing particularly, and just when he was about to bolt down the sidewalk, I yelled, "I love your cap, by the way!"

He looked back, smiled, and tipped the bill of the cap.

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><p><strong>AN:**

**Hi! First fanfic evah! Well, _Sandlot_ fanfic. Marcia (our oh-so-lovely protagonist) really does seem like a Mary Sue so far, but I can guarantee you that in the next few chapters, you'll see the real side of her. I think I can assure you that she'll be slightly different than any other female OC, and you'll see later on. I'm so very sorry if this "chapter" seems to...rushed or slow (depending on your preference), but I can promise you that the rest of the chapters will be better. (Trust me, I was contemplating whether or not I should keep the beginning of the chapter in, but changed my mind, knowing that I can't directly wedge Benny at the beginning.) Hopefully, I can make this divided into a twenty chapter story and shtuff.  
><strong>

**And don't worry! I can ensure you that you'll be seeing the rest of our _Sandlot_ boys in the next chapter (hopefully). _  
><em>**

**But here's a little bit of background information before we get onto the next chapter:**

**1) Nobody moved out of the Valley, therefore, you'll be seeing all the characters from the original movie (All the _Sandlot_ boys, Phillips and his Crew of Pimps, Mr. Mertle, etc.)**

**2) This takes place in 1964, and I'm trying to make is as historically accurate as possible. Expect "unusual" outfits, slang, etc. Also, this is two years after when Smalls arrived in the Valley. (No, I will not put any racism in here. Let's just pretend that everyone in the Valley doesn't care about what you are.)**

**3) The ages of the _Sandlot_ boys: (I'll gradually give out the rest of the ages of supporting characters later on, and these ages were just an approximate guess so tell me if you think I should change the ages.)**

**Benny, 15**

**Smalls, 13**

**Yeah-Yeah, 13**

**Bertram, 15**

**Kenny, 14**

**Ham, 14**

**Squints, 14**

**Timmy, 15**

**Tommy, 13**

**4) WARNING: CHARACTERS MAY SEEM OUT OF CHARACTER. **

**5) Yep, that's pretty much it.**

**Anyways, your reviews will be a great help and will help improve this fanfic (also, please keep in mind, this is a fanfic; therefore, this can get as cheesy as it gets—but I'll refrain from making it too cheesy because I don't want you to gouge your eyes out)!**

**And that's it**—FOR NOW.****


	2. Start of an Adventure?

_Locke in the Lot_

_I do not own the Sandlot_

Start of an Adventure?

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><p>"Get out of the house."<p>

I looked up from my pastel blue covers and raised an eyebrow at my parents. It's only been one day since we got here and now they want me out of the house? Aren't parents supposed to lock up their daughters up in their rooms? I'm not saying that they're not doing a fantastic job at being the best parents in the world, but I would guess at this age, they would prevent me from seeing the sunshine and breathing fresh air. We're trying to be a normal family, and they're deciding that it's a good idea to kick me out of the house as a start.

Good riddance.

"Why?" I asked them as I finally sat upright and knitted my eyebrows together. With arms crossed over my chest and a clear, stoic face, I put my foot down and refused to leave the room. I know I always left the apartment in Brooklyn to go on my "adventure", but I just really want to spend as much time as I can with my parents here in the Valley. After all, I just want to live the normal life of an American teenage girl and spend time with my parents.

"Starting today, your mother and I are going to start tidying up the house, and the two of us have decided that maybe you can do some shopping for us," Daddy implied, grinning from ear to ear. Soon enough, Momma sat down on my comforters and stroked my mousy, tousled hair.

"_Mi amor, mi hija_! Go outside! Explore the world!" Momma said as she handed me a grocery list, "And you can do that, while going shopping!"

With a softened expression and a light smile, I gazed at them. Surely, I had to agree. Either way, I'm going to have to go. I get the choice to either: one, walk around with my nightgown on; which two, I won't ever dare to do; that also leads me to three, complying with their orders without any other hesitation. Soon enough, I found myself stretching my arms over my head and jumping out of bed. "I'll be down in a bit, alright?" I said to my parents as I started to brush through the knots in my hair. With that, they descended out of my room, leaving me to do nothing but get ready.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy "dressing up" as most girls do, but I don't really get all riled up with doing so to impress anyone. There's not really a point if I do so. Even though I try to dress in the prettiest outfits I can find, I'm not trying to make an impression on someone. Who would I even impress in the first place? Last time I checked, I had as much charm as a rock, lying in the middle of the street, waiting to pop someone's tire. I guess, in a way, I'm trying to impress myself because that's really the only person that I need to impress. After all, it's good to have a decent amount of self-esteem. Right? Normal people have that, right?

Oh, and don't worry—I'll get to that story sometime later.

As I glanced at my reflection in the vanity's mirror, I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and adjusted my pastel pink bow just above it. I was only going to the market, right? You didn't need to use the shower before going off to a market, right? It's not like anyone is going to be sniffing me anytime soon. What's the point? As of result, I threw on my heather gray t-shirt and pastel pink skirt to match my bow. And that was it. I was done and was ready to take on the Valley. Sort of.

I mean, I just transferred here from Brooklyn after Daddy decided to move us here. He got transferred to Los Angeles a while back and decided to move us here to the Valley just to spend more time with us. I don't even know where to begin! Which way do I head? Here? There? How about over there? Hell, I may even get lost and won't come home until the next week when the police find me. That's how clueless I am. But hey, I'm happy about the move. No more traffic to deal with or having to worry about taking a bullet to the head when out on the street.

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><p>Today was the perfect day to lose my sense of direction inside a market, y'know, just one of those days. There I was, standing in the middle of the aisle, swearing colorfully. (You would, too, if you had no idea where you were—especially in an unfamiliar place like this.) Sure, I ended up finding almost all of the things on the list, but I was far too exhausted to even think about scouting for the other uncrossed items. So far, I guess I'm getting the hang of this place. Maybe. Almost. Nope. Not at all.<p>

"Butter, milk, eggs, bread," I mumbled under my breath as I walked out of the market with the brown paper bag at hand. A relatively small list that causes a great pain. So far, all I really need at this point are a few bottles of Tylenol, some pop, baseballs, and softballs. I'm not too sure on why he wanted the baseballs—he has a plethora of them in Los Angeles. In his locker. In Los Angeles.

And so, I walked down the sidewalk, in hopes to gather the rest of the things just in time for lunch. That's when I stopped my tracks. Was I really so desperate to go home this soon? I guess this is what happens when you never have friends. I guess I did have friends back in Brooklyn, but we were never too close to the point where we hung out in public together. The most we would be with each other would be if we were in school or on the field playing ball. Other than that, I never really had a best friend or whatever you would like to call them. On days like this, I would be with Momma or Daddy by cleaning up the house or practicing my pitches for softball. Somehow, I managed to isolate myself from the crowd for a majority of my life, and I'm not too sure if there's something wrong with me.

Next thing I knew, I kept on walking forward and soon found myself hanging around inside Vincent's Drug Store. It reminded me of Brooklyn, somehow. With its rusty, paint-chipped shelves, dim lighting, and a typical old man running the counter, I seemed highly convinced that this would be the only place I wouldn't feel so foreign to. The other parts of the Valley? Well, this is only one side. I can't make a general opinion of the entire place, but I can already tell that I'm going to like this place. After all, I'm going to be staying here for the next few years; I might as well make myself comfortable by hanging around the places that remind me of home, right?

I browsed through the old, decrepit shelves and sighed. There I was, gazing at the group of baseballs that sat upon the shelf, only to snap back to reality when I heard a somewhat-familiar chime ring at the front.

"What's the matter?" a familiar voice called out to me. Turning around, I saw the face of a familiar Hispanic boy and smiled. This time, though, he didn't seem to enter the drug store alone. Eight other guys maybe? Just a little estimate.

"Well, just Benny, my parents kicked me out of the house to have to sweet time together and now I'm stuck shopping for them. Y'know, the usual," I said, picking up a small mesh bag of a dozen baseballs.

He raised an eyebrow at me leaned against the cracking, red brick wall. "First, they let you suffer by forcing you to carry in boxes and now they're kicking your ass outta the house to do their shopping for them? Your parents must seem to be very caring people," he said, watching the other guys scattering themselves to different parts of the store. I chuckled a bit as I watched him curve his thin lips into a smile.

"Eh, they're not that bad. They're my parents—they're supposed to do that."

"And you're their daughter. I would expect a face like that to be locked up in a room with bars hanging around the window."

It was my time to raise my eyebrows, but just as I was about to reply, another voice cut me off, "Benny's gettin' some!"

Confused, I looked around to see a new stranger with big framed, black glasses and a grin that could stretch for miles. Soon enough, the eyes of the other boys were on me, and I've never felt more uncomfortable in my entire life. It was as if they were staring at me for hours and an eerie silence began to fill the store. Well, until Benny cleared his throat and whispered, "Sorry."

I only returned a half-smile and replied, "It's 'ight."

Then, the group of boys soon gathered around the two of us, and it was at that time that I've never felt so tiny. I was probably taller than maybe one, two, or maybe even three of the guys, but I couldn't help but feel so…_overwhelmed_. I bit my bottom lip and looked back at Benny whom was looking down at the ground with eyes closed. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked back up and gestured towards me. "This is Marcia," he started, "Marcia, these are the guys—"

He introduced them from left to right.

"Ham Porter—"

Daggers were thrown at me as I gulped.

"Tommy and Timmy Timmons—"

Makes me wish that I had a brother.

"Yeah-Yeah McClennan—"

'Yeah-Yeah'?

"Kenny DeNunez—"

Ooh, Kansas City Monarchs hat!

"Squints Palledorous—"

I never thought that the Cheshire Cat smile was real. Damn!

"Bertram Weeks—"

Damn tall.

"And Smalls—"

Aww…he's so cute.

With that, I grinned and checked the wall clock hanging above.

_12:07_

"Shit!" I exclaimed, rushing over to the counter to pay.

Now that really caught their attention. Their eyes widened as I settled the mesh bag, Tylenol, and pop on the counter, while at the same time, pulling out a five dollar bill from my skirt's pocket. The old man at the counter soon began packing up the items in a tiny plastic bag and offered me the change. "Oh no, you can keep the change, sir," I said as I began to jet off to home.

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><p>"And what took <em>you <em>so long, Little Miss?"

"You're expecting me to know this place like the back of my hand on the first day? I know that you have high expectations, but I didn't know that it was _that_ high."

"Well, Little Miss, I'll have you know that we've been invited to dinner from one of the neighbors."

"Sweet Jesus."

"What's wrong with that?"

Daddy looked at me with a raised eyebrow as he plopped himself down on the chocolate brown leather couch. The hospitality in the Valley was creeping the shit outta me. No one has ever been _this_ kind to us before. We've never even been invited to our neighbors' places back in New York. Eh, it's a first.

Right?

"Why're we even having dinner with them? They could be murderers! Have a collection of human corpses—children corpses!" I defended, throwing my arms up in the air to my parents. Their only response was keeping that stoic poker face plastered upon their faces.

"Little Miss, this is an opportunity for you to make friends! Isn't that great?" Momma said with a genuine smile. Why can't I have a smile like that?

Rolling my eyes, I parted my lips to speak, only to have Daddy interject, "Plus, they told your mother that their kid plays ball—you like ball, they like ball, it's perfect!"

"And aren't you supposed to be planning out your baseball camp for July? Daddy, we've got better things to do."

"It's not until July, and your mother and I think that you should make friends."

"Shouldn't that happen until school starts?"

"I don't want to have to go to the principal because you're not sitting with anyone."

"They tripped me."

"Marcia, you will make friends this summer. I don't give a shit if you have to run from the cops—your mother and I just want you to make friends."

"It feels like we've had this conversation before."

"And I was damn proud when I picked you up from the police station."

Momma glared at Daddy as he smiled sheepishly. At that time, a couple of people from school decided it was a good idea to tag me along when they were about to shoplift a supermarket. In the end, we got caught, y'know, the typical stuff that happens in the end. It really isn't a fun story until Daddy picked me up from the police station. The other people just stopped and stared when Daddy high-fived me for ending up in the station. It was at that moment that I realized that my parents weren't exactly like any other parents in the world. And I was damn proud of them.

Momma spoke, "Anyways, did anything interesting happen when you were out?"

I smiled to myself and sat down on the couch in between the two of them. "Not necessarily," I replied.

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><p>It wasn't until six o'clock that we started to head off to the neighbors' house. Momma told me that they only moved here about two years ago, so she figured that we could somewhat relate to them. Daddy, on the other hand, didn't really care if they related to us in some way—he was only tagging along for the food and to watch me make my 'first friend'. Now, we've gone through this before—I have friends—just not <em>best<em> friends. In a way, his argument was invalid.

"What's their name?"

"The Smalls family."

"Smalls?" Huh, seems familiar.

"Yep, and tonight, I just want you to be yourself and make friends with their son."

Soon enough, Daddy stopped his tracks. He turned around to face Momma and snarled, "_Son_?"

She nodded, walking forward to reach the door of their house. "You've got a problem with that, Honey?"

"I don't want her first friend to be a boy."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"I don't want her to get corrupted.

Momma and I snorted. "Nate, the two of us both knew in the beginning that our child was going to get corrupted from the start."

Daddy groaned as Momma knocked on their mahogany door. Light footsteps was heard and soon enough, it was as if lightning had struck me.

Right.

Then.

And.

There.

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><p><em><strong>Translations:<strong>_

_Mi amor, mi hija_ = my love, my daughter

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><p><strong>AN:**

**Well, I hope that this is better than the last one. **By now, I think you already know what's up with the Lockes and shtuff, but I'm not going to confirm anything yet for the sake of it being only the beginning of the story. I'm still trying to make it less rushed, but I just couldn't help myself in this chapter. **In this story, particularly, I'm trying to focus on characters and character development. So, don't expect any clear signs of affection soon.**

**Maybe just a lot of light flirting...maybe.**

**"But when is the baseball going to come in?" your pretty little face asks, 'cause, after all, THIS IS WHAT YOU CAME HERE FOR. Right? Well, the first five chapters will be about getting to familiarize ourselves with the characters. (It's been two years since the original**_**Sandlot**_**movie, might I say once again.) AND THEN, we get to baseball for the next...ten chapters? Yep, because I'm just**_**that**_**hardcore.**

**Now that I think of it, should I really tell you the plans for the future? Well, I think I should mainly because I don't want anyone to get confused. Let's face it, though,**_**we all know what's going to happen in the end**_**.**

**...or do we?**

**And I don't think I want a schedule to update, y'know? It's kind of frustrating for me to write a chapter and then do nothing until the scheduled date. So...YAYZ FOR NO SCHEDULED UPDATING. Most likely the updates will be early like this one unless I give you a reason why. So...yep.**

**This is just the beginning...you have been warned.**

**And expect really long A/N's like this in every chapter, just sayin'.**

**I guess I'll end this chapter right here.**

**(OH WAIT. YEP.)**

**I will return reviews via PMing!**

***Silently begs for more reviews***

**REVIEWING IS GOOD FOR THE MIND, BODY, AND SOUL.**

**And that's it—FOR NOW.**

**(Sorry for the accidental update earlier. Hehehe...sorry!)**


	3. Scotty

_Locke in the Lot_

_I do not own the Sandlot_

Scotty

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><p>Oh…<em>that<em> 'Smalls'.

Of course, I knew that I was dense—just not _that_ dense.

Y'know?

I still don't understand why they call him 'Smalls'? I can understand that it's his surname, but doesn't it get annoying for a while? He didn't really seem to fit in with the other guys there, now that I think about it—Scotty looked far too nice to be friends with them. No, no, I'm not insulting any of them—it just seems odd. But hey, I guess Momma and Daddy weren't kidding when they said that friendship could happen between the most unlikely people. Then again, there is always that _one_ guy in the group that just stands out to the crowd. Right?

"So, Marcia, how's the move so far?" Mrs. Smalls asked me as she continued to feed her youngest son, Johnnie, some mashed up carrots and potatoes. I looked up from my empty plate snapped back to reality.

"It's alright so far, but I think I still need to adjust to this place," I replied.

"Well, maybe tomorrow Scotty can show you around the Valley," she said as his eyes widened.

"Um…I…uh…can't. The Sandlot…and…yeah," he said, looking down at the ceramic plate.

"Maybe you can show Marcia the Sandlot, then. I'm sure the others wouldn't mind."

Sandlot?

"Oh no, it's fine, Mrs. Smalls. He doesn't have to show me around," I tried to convince her with a diffident smile.

That's when everybody stopped what they were doing and focused their attention on me. Damnit. What am I gonna do now? I ran out of excuses! Heck, I never even had any excuses in the first place!

"No, you don't," Daddy argued.

"Yes, I do," I bit back.

"No."

"Yes."

"No.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Marcia, I'm your father. The two of us both know who's gonna win this argument."

"You're forfeiting already?"

The two of us looked at each other and snickered.

"You're still going out tomorrow, though," he said as he went back to his conversation with Mr. Smalls.

Damnit.

* * *

><p>Dinner, from there, was all about smooth sailing. Nothing bad happened at that point. Nope, nothing suspicious. No, they don't keep corpses in their attic. Overall, they're good people. Sensible, well-mannered, and absolutely down-to-earth. Compared to the people in Brooklyn, these people may as well be saints or angels. They're just that hospitable! I can't believe it! Anyways, I guess it's safe to say that I'm not going to get mugged or tripped here. That's good.<p>

At this pace, I think that the Valley is okay—let's just hope it stays that way.

Staring at the popcorn ceiling, I just can't sleep. I don't know why I can't sleep. Is it because of the move? No, it can't be. Is it because Momma and Daddy are trying to make me happy? Maybe, but I think they're being a bit pushy about it. Is it because I'm scared? Shit. I'm so screwed.

I understand and know the concepts of blending in with the crowd. That's why I'm afraid. I know the crowds back in Brooklyn. I don't know the crowds here. Brooklyn had the streets I knew, but the Valley is a completely different story. I shouldn't be moping around about being sad, but this is just a phase. I'm a teenager, I go through phases all the time. Mood swings and all, I've conquered it. This whole phase of blending in is probably just a figment of my imagination. Maybe I'm not supposed to blend in. Maybe I'm supposed to walk in the middle of the halls for once in my life and just enjoy it.

Then again, it's a first.

I've never been one to think about things like this. After all, I never really did have a social life. I wasn't really allowed to have one. I guess. Well, I didn't allow myself to have one. Momma and Daddy just agreed with me. None of us wanted to pop it. It was a tad bit too risky. So why start to think of my social like that? I'll start off small. One friend. Just one. And then I'll have a social life.

Hey, it's a first.

I'm still wide awake. These thin sheets have never felt so warm and comforting. Silence blanketing the Valley. Stars lighting the navy blue sky, and the moon glowing. It was odd. I've never really noticed this before. It's only now that I've welcomed it, and I can't help but feel cleansed. Back in Brooklyn, it was all about smog, darkness, and everything loud. But damn. I don't know why, but I really miss it. I guess this is just a phase. After all, this is what happens to all people that move, right?

I should sleep. I'm going to sleep. I need to sleep.

* * *

><p>He had insisted that I bring the clipboard.<p>

Who did he think he was? If he wanted to see what he'll work with during the camp, why can't he do it? Why me?

Oh yeah, he's Daddy.

"So, you're from Brooklyn?" I snapped out of my mental rant and looked back at Scotty.

"Yep, born and raised," I replied as we began to walk away from the cracked sidewalk and to the dirt pathway.

"I can't imagine having to move all the way across the country. Then again, I moved in from the north, so I kind of know how difficult it was to move to completely different place."

"Are you sure about this, though?"

"'Course, your dad is hosting the camp this year, right?"

"Yeah, and if they see that he's good enough, they'll promote him to be the coach for both teams."

"He's really amazing y'know. All the guys keep on talkin' 'bout him on the Sandlot."

"Just make sure you don't blow the secret, 'ight Scotty?"

"It's safe with me."

We continued walking until we ended up seeing this huge plot of land. The sight of dead grass and an impressive makeshift diamond with bags, a mound, and everything was right in front of me, and I couldn't help but give a little grin. It may not be Brooklyn—or even New York—material, but it was the fact that it was a diamond. And that was all that mattered.

"I'll tell you this though," he started, stopping his tracks to face me, "once we step onto the Sandlot, most likely the others are gonna start whining and complainin'. They're good people—it's just that they have a hard time adjusting to new people and change, so just give them a chance."

"Don't worry, it ain't like I'm going to show you all up and make fools out of all of you," I stated as I continued to stride on ahead with the plastic clipboard at hand.

"Wait. Wait. Wait a minute!" I heard him mutter under his breath.

Maybe this is _the_ first.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I can't tell you guys how sorry I am. I feel extremely guilty for not uploading, and it really is my fault. Well, summer homework isn't very pleasant, and I can't believe I've been procrastinating on _everything. _But yeah, that's pretty much my reason. So, sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. (I still can't believe I'm not done with the summer homework despite the fact that I've been CENTERING ALL OF MY ATTENTION ON IT. Sorry for the outburst. Heh. Don't worry, though, I'll try to balance everything out as much as I can!**

**And sorry if this isn't the quality of writing you were expecting. I'm never satisfied with my work, and I've been trying to re-write everything until it looked good. I just had to settle with this one because guilt was eating me. And this "chapter" is more of a filler, if yuh know whud i mean. And Marcia seems a bit more Mary-Sue much to my dismay, but hey, let's just say that the next chapter is pretty much going to be the one of the best chapters that will be in this story. That's all I'm gonna say for the next chapter. Yay.**

**Don't forget to review!**

**And that's it—FOR NOW.**


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